


Adventures in Teaching Assistance

by Calicy



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 09:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12528120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicy/pseuds/Calicy
Summary: Spock's students are always interesting but not nearly as interesting as his new TA.





	Adventures in Teaching Assistance

On the third day of Introductory Xenolinguistics, a student by the name of Cadet Peters enters Spock’s classroom. Peters is a Caucasian male of approximately nineteen years of age and is in no way distinctive from his fellow students save for one transient but noticeable feature.

The individual in question can barely stand upright. Peters stumbles, gripping each desks he passes, obviously uncertain of his own equilibrium. As he comes closer to Spock, it also becomes apparent that Cadet Peters is extremely pale and diaphoretic.

It is not all that surprising to Spock. It was something of a tradition at Starfleet Academy for cadets to spend the first several days of the term engaging in activities of excess. Spock and the other faculty had received extensive training on recognizing and providing basic care to individuals suffering from alcohol and drug intoxication.

Spock did not see the point of such behavior yet his attempts to enforce the honor code of the Academy had been brushed aside. Admiral Christopher Pike had informed him, that while care should be taken to prevent permanent harm, excessive drinking and rowdy behavior were essential for morale and bonding.

Humans would use any line of thinking to justify their ridiculous actions.

“That’s my seat!” one of the female cadets says. Peters clings to a desk, unsteady on his feet. He holds up a hand, his eyes imploring the female cadet for mercy. She scoffs but surrenders the desk.

Peters stares at the chair for several minutes.

At that time, Spock becomes aware that his teaching assistant, Cadet Uhura is watching the scene too. Spock did not select Cadet Uhura. She was assigned to him by the administration. Their social exchanges had been sparse.

Yet when she looks at Cadet Peters and then at Spock, an emotion passes across her face that is easy to recognize as exasperation.

It is rare that he feels anything close to camaraderie with another. That is why the moment makes him pause, or so he tells himself.

Cadet Peters attempts to sit down. He misses the chair, falls to the floor, and promptly vomits on the ground.

Spock sends another message to Admiral Pike, protesting the lax policy. He is rebuffed again.

.  
.  
.

“Cadet Peters is command track.”

Spock looks up from the paper he is grading, a truly belligerent piece which clearly show that the student that wrote it had no concept of the topics being discussed. His frustration dissipates quickly.

Cadet Uhura is smiling at him, one hand playing with her earing.

His eyebrows furrow, “Is that comment relevant to the essay which you are grading?”

He had long since learned never to assume there was a limit to how absurd his students could be. It would not be the most inapplicable fact put into a paper for his class.

Cadet Uhura shrugs, “No, I just - can you imagine Peters as a Captain?”

Spock wants to answer promptly. However, he notices that the stone of her earring has changed color from deep red to a bright purple. At the same time, her expression sombers and she turns her attention back to her work.

“I’m sorry. I should not be flippant with you,” Cadet Uhura says.

Spock continues to watch her. He cannot help but notice that the stones which dangle from her earlobes also draws his attention to her long, graceful neck. Then he finds, he is simply starring. Her features are very symmetrical, he thinks idly, in a manner which is noteworthy.

“He would need to exercise a higher degree of restraint.”

Cadet Uhura chuckles, “Maybe a bit.”

.  
.  
.

On the first day of November, Spock makes two lapses in judgement.

Against the advice of multiple colleagues and to the protests of nearly all of his students, he schedules an exam.

“Halloween. It’s a tradition where children dress up in costume and beg for candy,” Cadet Uhura informs him, “And adults will sometimes wear costumes too and hold parties.”

She is silent and noticeably so. He wonders if she is purposefully being illusive but does not ask, nor does he change the exam date. The schedule will not permit it.

It does not appear, at first, that there will be any of the issues he had been warned of. The students appear fatigued and complain to one another but this is nothing of consequence. Additionally, they are doing exceptionally well, as Spock is able to discern from statistical data which the students’ exams send directly to his PADD.

When there is eleven minutes of class time remaining, the door is flung open and a blur of green and brown passes Spock’s desk. The student rushed to Cadet Uhura in the back of the room. From the student’s desperate tone, Spock can ascertain the boy is begging.

Spock approaches and then must stop. The student is wearing a particularly garish garment. Cadet Uhura is watching the students with pinched cheeks. She glances at Spock and says, “Cadet Kim is late but would like to attempt the test.”

Cadet Kim turns, wiping furiously at a stain on his front which appears to be some kind of bodily fluid. “Please, sir. I slept too long this morning at my friend’s place but I came the moment I woke up and I just want to try and get some points.”

Spock considers the circumstances. Cadet Kim is an exceptional student, who does well on assignments and participates regularly in class. A major loss of points seems to be punishment enough for an infrequent lapse in judgement.

“You may proceed, cadet. However, note that tardiness will not be permissible on future occasions,” Spock says.

Cadet Kim rushes to his seat with many of his classmates watching him out of the corners of their eyes. Spock stands next to Cadet Uhura. They watch as he frantically works.

Without warning, Cadet Uhura turns, brushing against Spock as she faces the wall to hide a wide grin. The expression is so unabashed that Spock finds he is surprised by it. He had never seen Cadet Uhura smile with such abandon.

Cadet Uhura laughs to the point of tears when the classroom is empty. Spock is unable to look away. He can only hope she does not notice.

“I didn’t think I would ever see Roger Kim dressed as a taco,” Cadet Uhura says when she finally calms down, “Life, huh?”

Spock examines the scores for the exam. The two lowest grades are an 18% and a 54%. Neither belong to Cadet Kim.

“Indeed.”

.  
.  
.

Cadet Gaila is an intelligent individual who could easily be an accomplished student if she did not possess such an appallingly lackluster work ethic. When she does contribute to class discussions or turn in assignments, her input and comprehension is thorough and thoughtful but rarely based on assigned reading. Spock’s attempts to engage her in a manner which might facilitate learning are unsuccessful.

She is not alone. Many students are uninterested in his class. She would be an ideal subject to ascertain methods to improve his teaching style, he determines.

Cadet Uhura is unenthusiastic about the idea.

“Perhaps if I invited her to attend my office hours?”

“She knows when they are being held. She wouldn’t come,” Cadet Uhura says, gently.

“Do you think - ”

“It’s not you. She’s just not that interested in the subject and nothing we do will change that. If this were an engineering class, she’d be your best student. She’s great with that kind of thinking and I don’t even think she’s bought a textbook since she enrolled in the Academy.”

“I feel as her instructor, I should make an attempt to engage her in the material.”

“She is learning from you! She wouldn’t be doing as well as she is if you weren’t a great teacher. Take that accomplishment.”

Nonetheless, he continues in his efforts. If a student requires more of his attention, it is only logical that he provide them with it. Such is his responsibility.

He creates a lecture on common algorithms used in computational linguistics, a topic he feels strongly will interest Cadet Gaila and other engineering students. During the class, however, a group of cadets fulfilling their physical conditioning requirement repeatedly run past the window and Cadet Gaila is unable to look away from the sight.

“Are there any questions on the content I have presented thus far?” Spock asks.

The class is distributed as it always is. A handful of students in the front taking notes, a large number behind them, listening and occasionally being distracted by the group of racing cadets outside, and two rows in the back where students are finding distractions on their PADDs.

A murmur passes through the class but no hands are raised. Spock persists.

Without warning, Cadet Gaila stands, opens one of the windows, and crawls out to exit the classroom. She runs to where one of the male cadets has stopped to have a drink of water.

Unable to understand what is happening, Spock pauses his lecture. The students watch the occurrence with rapt attention.

The duo talk for a moment before the male cadet hands Cadet Gaila something. She takes the object, touches his shoulder and turns, walking back to the window from which she came.

Cadet Uhura closes the opening before Cadet Gaila can climb back through. “Decorum, Gai. Don’t interrupt further. At least go through the door.”

The class, unsurprisingly, is barely able to continue on after this impediment. When the cadet enters the classroom, one of her classmates hoots and compliments Gaila’s “skills”. Cadet Gaila smiles but sits promptly upon seeing Cadet Uhura’s fierce gaze.

“She’s a lost cause. Don’t take it personally,” Cadet Uhura says. She had taken Cadet Gaila aside and reprimanded her, which had ultimately led to a sheepish apology for Spock.

“I have come to believe that perhaps,” Spock says. He inhales deeply and then exhales, an attempt to center himself that proves in vain, “Cadet Gaila may never be interested in my class.”

“You know something? Yesterday, we were doing our homework together. I showed her how to do some propulsion questions for her class and she tried to help me with my syntax assignment. She gave me all the wrong answers but she probably thinks she learned it properly from you.”

“I find no solace in that story.”

“Well, I understand if you don’t,” Cadet Uhura goes to pick up her bag, “You know, it means something that you tried though. I hope you know that. Most teachers would have just written her off right away.”

He nods. He appreciates her statement.

A few nights later, he finds himself telling his mother the story, as he had with the tales of Cadet Peters and Cadet Kim. She finds the recollections humorous and he enjoys the conversations which follow.

Amanda laughs but not as much as he expects and when she looks up to see Spock’s contemplating expression, she asks, much to his surprise, “Have you ever been in love, Spock?”

He needs no time to think on her query, “No. What does that question have to do with our current dialogue?”

He feels a slight discomfort. He had experienced romantic emotions but never expressed them nor had them be requited.

His mother does not continue with the inquiry. Instead she says, “I hope you do someday.” Then she asks if he had been consuming adequate nutrition in the days and weeks prior.

.  
.  
.

Cadet Uhura places a data cube containing files of student assignments on his desk. When she is near enough for discrete conversation, he asks, in a low volume, “Do you find the adornment distracting as I do?”

There is no need to question what he is referring to. He had noticed the artificial tail hanging from the back of Cadet Jai’s trousers when the young man had entered the classroom. Cadet Jai had been nonchalant, as if the tail were a natural accessory to his Starfleet Academy uniform.

“I am choosing not to pay it much attention.”

“I do not think I should comment on it. Perhaps it is worn for religious reasons - ”

“It’s not for religious reasons,” Cadet Uhura says, shuddering from causes which Spock cannot determine, “I - uh. I’ll explain later.”

Spock has difficulty concentrating for the rest of the class. What possible rationale would drive a full grown man to wear a tail?

When they are alone, they grade a quiz, prepare a online module, and have a discussion about her thesis before he can bear it no longer. “Please inform me as to the purpose of Cadet Jai’s tail.”

“The tail?” she says, as if she had forgotten in the 38 minutes since they had both first seen the accessory in question.

“Yes. You said you would explain the purpose of the decoration when we had some privacy.”

She carefully adjusts the stack of PADDs on his desk for nearly 1.4 minutes before his unrelenting stare achieves its intended goal. “I want you to understand that I only know because Gaila told me. She was surprised by it too.”

Spock had never understood the human disposition for gossip yet he now finds himself nearly overwhelmed by curiosity. “Proceed.”

“Cadet Jai is a furry,” Cadet Uhura says. She closes her mouth and turns her attention to her fingernails, which are immaculate and in no need of inspection as far as Spock can tell. She does not continue, as if the strange statement she made was enough of an explanation for the phenomenon in question.

“Could you please explain what a furry is?” Spock asks.

Cadet Uhura begins to play with her earring, “I’m not really sure. Gaila just said he was a furry. She didn’t explain further.”

Spock leans back in his chair. He carefully analyzes how Cadet Uhura is playing with her jewelry. He had seen her do so while talking about her thesis as well, a task which would require a public presentation for which she was nervous. He had also seen her do so while talking to him.

“Cadet Uhura - ”

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I should never have brought it up.”

“I thought you were unaware what of the topic in question.”

“I am.”

“Then why were you apprehensive about discussing it?”

Cadet Uhura turns to him but does not look him in the eye, “I do not want to be unprofessional or make you uncomfortable in any way.”

“I can research the term independently.”

“No!” Cadet Uhura says, “I don’t even want to think about what you will see if you do. . . Just - I guess I could tell you. It’s people who enjoy - physical uh intercourse with other people who are dressed up as well,” she sighs and pulls on her earrings, “animals.”

They are both silent for 8.456 minutes after that.

Spock is acquainted with human sexuality, having been forced to take rudimentary human biology as a general education requirement when he had first attended the Academy. He had also seen cadets watching pornographic material, both in class and in the library. On another occasion he had observed two cadets touching each other inappropriately in the middle of a lecture on morphology.

“I mean, respectfully, adults can consent to whatever they want to consent to but it’s not my thing,” Cadet Uhura says. Then, she visibly winces.

Another tense 5.46323 minutes pass. A single question reverberates through Spock’s mind and no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, he cannot help but consider what possible sexual activities Cadet Uhura might be interested in.

“I have to go,” Cadet Uhura says, “I just remembered I have a first aid class.”

Spock recalls that Commander Ezekail, the first aid instructor, is at a conference but does not state such. He bids Cadet Uhura farewell and sits down at his desk. He attempts to complete his grading of a single student assignment for 45.3219032 minutes, without success.

Spock reviews the events of the day and those of past classes. He knew such events would never occur at the Vulcan Science Academy. He considers that sentiment for 1.05 hours.

.  
.  
.

Cadet Uhura is not present when Spock proctors the final exam. She had a presentation scheduled for one of her classes during said time and was excused from attending.

Naturally, it is not without incident.

“Commander Spock.” A male cadet who Spock does not recognize approaches his desk. The individual is blonde with dark brown eyes and a build Amanda would describe as “lithe.”

“Cadet,” Spock tries but he cannot pull the individual’s likeness from memory.

“We’ve never met,” the cadet says, as if anticipating what Spock is thinking, “My friend recorded lectures for me and I skipped the first two exams because they were only worth 20% of the total grade. I’m going to get a perfect score on the final so I figured I would just come for that.”

“I see.” Spock does not state that only five individuals have ever received a perfect score on any of his tests. The cadet will soon learn.

“Anyway,” the cadet says, “I might need to ask you for a letter of recommendation so I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Samuel Calvin. My friends call me Sammy but you should call me Captain Calvin just to prepare yourself.”

“I will remember your name.”

The Cadet holds out a hand and then pulls it back. He bows, an equally inconsequential manner of action, and then leaves the classroom, raising his hand in a gesture of victory as he exits.

Spock looks up the cadet in his gradebook. According to a quick calculation, Cadet Calvin had received mediocre scores on most of his assignments and had achieved a final point total of 69.7%, a failing grade.

Even the slightest attempt on the two midterm exams and he might have passed, Spock thinks.

He finds himself looking for Cadet Uhura’s eyes and then stops. He will never see her in his class again.

A thought occurs to him but he brushes it away.

When the exam is complete and the grades are submitted, he returns home for an evening meal. He attempts to read for pleasure but this fails. After, he meditates which only gives clarity to the realization which had come to him in his classroom.

He will miss her.

It is inappropriate but even after much consideration, he knows it is true.

.  
.  
.

For the next three days, Spock finds distraction where he can. He prepares for the next semester and his upcoming commission onboard the USS Enterprise. He makes plans to visit his mother on the Lunar Colonies while his father is away at a conference. He engages in strenuous physical activity and deep meditation when all else fails.

He cannot keep Cadet Uhura from his mind. When he lapses in his activities, he recalls the curve of her smile and the sound of her laugh. This only brings forth unfortunate sensations which he quickly pushes away.

He was not her superior officer, nor were they in the same field within Starfleet. It would not have been an infraction for them to spend time together outside of the classroom.

Spock does not allow himself to consider this. Cadet Uhura had displayed no interest in him.

Nevertheless, he finds himself writing her a brief note.

_Cadet Uhura,_

_I would like to express my gratitude for your assistance this semester. I do believe the students and myself benefited from your presence. Please note that the grades have been submitted to the administration._

_Regards,_   
_Commander Spock_

He does not expect any reply. Therefore, the next day after he has cleared out his office, he is unprepared when he finds Cadet Uhura waiting for him in the hall.

“I was going to go out tonight to celebrate the end of term,” Cadet Uhura says by way of greeting. “But I wanted to see what you were doing.”

She is not wearing her cadet uniform. Instead she is wearing a black dress. He cannot help but find himself appreciating the manner in which the garment highlights her long legs and soft skin.

“That must I could ascertain from your dressage,” Spock replies.

“You like it? You think it’s pretty?” She turns, her skirt flaring around as she moves.

There is a strange warm tightness in his chest, which does not appear to be pathological in nature. For her own professional interest, he should tell her to leave but he does not. “I fear you have wasted your time. I am not engaging in any activities of interest tonight.”

She smiles, obviously amused at his statement. He is not able to determine why but he is relieved to find that he does not feel the familiar emotion of shame. That is, until she says,

“I got your note.”

He does not respond. It was a simple expression of thanks, or so he had tried to tell himself. He does not know why she came to tell him that she had received it and he cannot begin to fathom a guess.

“There's a subtext to you,” she says finally, “I didn't notice at first but it was quite exciting when I did realize.”

He knows immediately what she is talking about as he had seen and appreciated the same in her.

“Would you like to spend some time together? Maybe go out to dinner with me? I am officially not your TA - .”

“Yes,” he says without a moment of hesitation.

She smiles. “Good. I was thinking that would be your response.”

They walk out of the building and into the evening, where the sun has painted the sky a pleasing color. A deep contentment settles across Spock’s mind, which is only enhanced when Cadet Uhura laughs and says, “All this because of those crazy kids, right?”

“Indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: https://www.knowable.com/a/college-professors-share-the-most-bizarre-things-students-have-done-in-their-cla/p-1


End file.
